Married or Shot
by turbomagnus
Summary: The greatest headache Croque faces on Pulau Pulau is not 'The Daring Dragoon', and he has finally reached his limit with the two of them... Jack/Emilia.


Summary: The greatest headache Croque faces on Pulau Pulau is not 'The Daring Dragoon', and he has finally reached his limit with the two of them... Jack/Emilia.

Disclaimer: The Author would like it known that he neither owns "Jack of All Trades" or has permission to use it, even for entertainment purposes without intent to profit. It is his sincere hope that this disclaimer will convince the copyright lawyers that he means no harm and that they wouldn't get much money out of him anyway...

-o0O0o-

"Married or Shot"  
By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'

-o0O0o-

The sexual tension between them was stifling - even for someone accustomed to being in the same room as Napoleon and Josephine. Madam Rothschild he could understand, being British and thus innately repressed and unwise in matters of _l'amour_... But the American he expected better from - after all, had not the French taken the young nation under their wing during the war against _Angleterre_ , taught them how to fight and how to live? How to love? Why was it then that there was so much catfooting... Governor Croque frowned, certain that he was mistranslating the word from that misbegotten gibberish the British and Americans called a language into his own beautiful French... around between them? Should not Stiles be capable of overcoming Madam Rothschild as his country had overcome her own? Yet he always seemed to ignore what anyone with a sense of passion could see burning as bright as the evening star...

It was enough to turn a gentleman off of his appetites, despite it being the last meal he would have in his own Governor's Mansion for several months of sea voyages on either side of his visit to Paris, lovely Paris. At least there was the time he would spend in his own home in France to look forward to during the dreadful trip between Pulau Pulau and Europe. Any time now, the ship should be ready to depart, awaiting only his arrival and the final loading of certain items before it would set sail. Perhaps the time away from his governorship and once more in the royal court would allow him to regain the ability to tolerate the things which Pulau Pulau forced him to endure; 'Daring Dragoons' and incompetent soldiery and people who should be lovers yet were not...

A faint coughing sound drew Croque from his mental rant and drew his attention to the doorway where Captain Brogard of the French army detachment on Pulau Pulau stood. When he noticed Croque looking in his direction, Brogard gave a simple nod with a simple unspoken message, it was time.

Pushing his chair back, Croque stood up and offered a slight bow to each of his still-seated guests, "If you will excuse me, my ship for France awaits."

Madam Rothschild gave a slight bow while seated, accompanied by a wide smile, "Do have an enjoyable visit home, Governor."

"Yeah, and give our regards to the brother-in-law," Stiles chimed in irreverently, only to let out a sharp exclamation of pain that Croque could only assume was Madam Rothschild stomping on his foot, kicking his shin or the like...

"Certainly," Croque answered faintly, wincing as he did from distaste at Stiles' crudeness, before turning and crossing to the doorway, a decision made in his mind.

When he reached the doorway, Croque paused by Brogard, "If they are not married by the time I have returned, I will have them - and you - shot... and I hope you remembered to be sure that the ship has the 1745 vintage from my family's vineyards, _not_ the 1744."

" _Oui, mon_ Governor," Brogard answered with straight-faced formality.

With a curt nod, Croque continued past the Captain and out of the room, leaving Brogard standing there with Jack Stiles and Emilia Rothschild sitting cornered from each other at the table.

"He's in one of his moods again, eh, Brogey?" Stiles asked with his typical American ill-manneredness.

"Monsieur Stiles, you are the second most annoying man of my acquaintence," Brogard informed him.

"I guess you need to get out and meet more people then," Stiles responded, "I'm sure there's plenty of people in the world more annoying than little old me."

"I, personally, am not so sure," Rothschild interjected into the conversation.

"Excuse me? Have we forgotten your father? My ex-lover? A certain masked folk hero who shall remain nameless?"

"They may say 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'," Rothschild countered, "But I prefer 'familiarity breeds contempt' and I should point out, Mister Stiles, that we are rather familiar with each other."

"Not as familiar as we could be..."

"MIS-ter Stiles!"

Brogard closed his eyes for a moment, not sure if he wanted their discussion to degenerate into throwing food at each other or not. With a disdainful wrinkle of his nose, he spun on his heel - opening his eyes in the process - and left the room, leaving them to deal with themselves. If only they would deal with themselves for once, he simply didn't understand while Madam Rothschild permitted Mister Stiles to get away with some of the things which he did and said. If the man were a soldier under his command, Brogard would have long-since had him flogged - if not hung.

As Brogard walked down the hall, a servant moved towards the door he had exited before being stopped by the Captain's raised hand; "Leave them for now; if they kill each other, try to clean up the blood before anything stains."

The servant gave a bow, " _Oui_ , Captain."

-o0o-

It was eight months later that the honor guard stood at the docks to welcome Governor Croque back to Pulau Pulau after his voyage to France. Well, an honor guard in name only as it consisted merely of Captain Brogard and two of his troops due to the others being assigned to certain peacekeeping duties across the island. In their defence, however, the two troopers of the honor guard did manage to properly flank the gangplank and provide a salute as the Governor descended from the ship to shore.

Almost as soon as his feet touched the ground, Croque looked around and frowned, finally turning his eyes to Captain Brogard who was waiting almost directly in front of him, "Where are the rest of your forces, Captain?"

"Maintaining order, Governor," Brogard answered with barely noticible nervousness in his voice.

"'Maintaining order...'" Croque repeated slowly, "I presume the Daring Dragoon has been up to his usual activities, then?"

"The, uh, Dragoon hasn't been seen, Governor," Brogard couldn't help the slight skip as he answered. "Not in some time."

Croque raised an eyebrow and again looked around, "Then he is dealt with?"

Brogard's nervousness grew, "No, Governor. It is like he has vanished."

"Obviously afraid," Croque waved his hand dismissively. "Then what requires so much of our forces to maintain order?"

The Captain started to explain, "It would seem that the issue regarding certain people of which we spoke before you left has resolved itself, Governor."

"Inform me of what has happened in my absence," the Governor commanded imperiously.

" _La bonne_ news is that there will be a wedding in the near-future, Governor."

Croque was sure that he had specifically said they were to be married before his return, not in the near-future after it, but he decided to be magnanimous and not have Brogard punished, "You say 'the good news' as though there is bad news to go with it."

"I am not sure that it will make things better, Governor," Brogard admitted. "There have already been several disturbance reports for Monsieur Stiles and Madam Rothschild..."

"Disturbance reports how?"

Brogard's face turned as red as an English soldier's coat, "If I may be circumspect, Governor?"

"If you must," Croque sighed; he'd thought he was leaving the various political mind and word games, _sub tabula_ arrangements and circumspect discussions behind in France when he had returned to Pulau Pulau.

"They seem to be getting an early start on, how does one say, 'newlywed games'."

Croque suddenly became very concerned, "They have not done so in my office?"

"No, Governor," Brogard shook his head rapidly.

The Governor gave a thoughtful sigh, "Then I, at this point, do not care."

" _Oui_ , Governor."

"I am going to retire to my chambers; the salt from the ocean air has left me tired. See to it that I am not disturbed."

"By your command, Governor," Brogard fought back the urge to sigh with relief as he replied.

"And send them a bottle of wine with my compliments. The forty-five vintage..."

"...Not the forty-four," Brogard finished along with Croque. " _Oui_ , Governor."

"Guards!" Croque called out, the troopers of the honor guard snapping to attention. "Escort me. And bring my luggage."

Without even looking, Croque began to walk through the streets of Pulau Pulau towards the castle. What followed next was several seconds of silent argument between the two guards over whom would escort the Governor to the castle and whom would bring his luggage that lasted until Brogard stormed over and, drawing his sword, struck them both across the backside with the flat of it, angrily gesturing which was to follow which order. None of them noticed the events being watched by a parrot perched on the ship's railing, nor did they notice the parrot take flight and fly off into the town...


End file.
